


Peaceful, Easy Feeling

by TheSpaceCoyote



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Age Difference, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Vault Hunter!Jack, protege!Rhys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-29
Updated: 2017-11-29
Packaged: 2019-02-08 12:23:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12864453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSpaceCoyote/pseuds/TheSpaceCoyote
Summary: Rhys is a young man looking for excitement and adventure.Jack is a vault hunter who has taken on Rhys as his apprentice and traveling companion.Pandora is a rugged place full of danger and changing alliances, and after months of Jack and Rhys living together, it's not surprising that intimate feelings may have developed.





	Peaceful, Easy Feeling

**Author's Note:**

> An old fic based on an AU by hyperiontrashbin :) Go check it out on their tumblr!

It had been a great day.

They’d raided a small bandit camp, killing its inhabitants and making off with a surprisingly well-tuned truck and a buttload of necessary supplies and weapons.

Rhys had even shot a bandit between the eyes with a corrosive round from the Maliwan pistol Jack had scavenged from a desiccated corpse last week and given to him to use. Though Rhys had cringed a little bit as his bullet had burned and sizzled through the bandit’s spilling brain matter, he’d still preened with pride as Jack had clapped him on the back and complimented his shot. Jack had quickly looted the guys pockets, looking up to see Rhys silhouetted with the sun behind him, smiling even though the blood spatter across his face. Jack’s heart had picked up just a little bit and he’d blamed it on the dregs of battle adrenaline.

“70 bucks, kiddo,” Jack had whistled, flapping the wad of money against his hand, “you bagged us a rich one.”

And cold hard cash hadn’t been the only thing they’d scavenged from the camp. Jack had shouted with delight as he’d uncovered several jugs of bandit-made Pandoran whiskey, and they’d driven the truck to a clandestine outcropping of rocks for the night, parking it just as the sun had started to touch the horizon. After a dinner of tough, slightly sandy skag jerky and some crusty bread, they’d decided to break into a bit of the whiskey. Rhys had side-eyed the stained jug of acidic alcohol that Jack had offered him, but at the older man’s needling Rhys had taken a deep swig of the bottle. Jack had laughed at him when Rhys had choked on the sharp taste, but contrary to the vault hunter’s expectations the boy had kept it down with a couple firm thumps to the chest.

“ _Easy_ ,” Rhys had huffed, handing the jug back to Jack, “your move, old man.”

They’d passed the jug back and forth until it laid empty and discarded on the cooling sands, the last little drops dripping out onto the earth as the two men had slowly gravitated towards one another. Just as Jack had realized that Rhys was leaning up against him, he’d suddenly found the kid sliding warming into his lap, blithely taking a seat atop his thighs as he’d leaned his head back against Jack’s chest and started to point out the map of the stars twinkling in the darkening sky above them. Jack had gotten a whiff of Rhys’ hair, smelling of sand and cloth and the barest hint of blood.  

Jack had just pegged the kid as a little handsy, social inhibitions clouded by the alcohol to the point where personal space just wasn’t something he was thinking about as he pressed up against Jack. But  _okay_ , the way that Rhys looked over his shoulder at him, the way the kid’s eyes shone in the moonlight, the husky little whisper with which he told Jack the names he’d made up for the constellations…that right there? That had to be something more.

That’s what Jack convinces himself of, anyway, when his hand cups Rhys’ cheek and he presses in for a kiss as warm as the Pandoran night is chill and silent.

The kid gives in so readily that Jack feels a pang of guilt run through him, and for a moment he’s ready to pull away, to get his hands off of him and shove him down to the sand and tend to his boner in one of the ratty sleeping bags, but just as he’s about to yank his lips from Rhys’ the kid lets out a breathy, wanting little moan and that does the vault hunter in. His hands slowly move as they kiss, finding Rhys’ waist under the scratchy linen of his shirt, feeling the way his ribs start to expand and tremble with each stolen breath.

Jack had made fun of the kid for being little more than bones and baby fat but he’s grateful for Rhys’ slender weight as he hefts the kid up into his arms, long legs wrapping clumsily around Jack’s hips as the vault hunter stumbles over to the truck, lifting Rhys up onto the edge of the bed before he’s hoisting himself up and between the kid’s legs. The truck-bed is full of old blankets that might be covered in dirt and bugs but it’s better than the scraping rust of the bottom. Jack pulls together a ramshackle nest of the blankets before pinning Rhys down into it, tingling lips finding the moonlit cream of the kid’s throat.  

Jack’s thankful for the shared warmth between him as soon as he’s undoing his buckle and pushing his pants down to his legs—Rhys is, too, by the way his bare legs tremble when Jack tugs off his britches and tosses them towards the remaining jugs of bandit whiskey seated snugly near the truck’s cab. Jack rests his broad hands on Rhys’ thighs, urging away the prickle of gooseflesh as he presses close, brushing his drunken heat against the kid’s form as their lips meet again and again in kisses.

Jack winces as he feels a sharp pain on his lip, pulling away in confusion only to see Rhys with a little smirk and a bit of red on his teeth. Jack feels wetness on his lip and chuckles, squeezing a big handful of the kid’s thigh.

“Still….still a little shit…. _hnn_ …even half-wasted and pinned ‘neath a guy twice your size…”

“Could….take you….old man….” Rhys huffs, wiping away the little bit of blood on his lips. Jack’s tongue takes care of the rest.

Soon enough, they’re both half naked, their pants discarded and shirts rucked up and unbuttoned. Despite the rush of the alcohol and arousal, a rational plan has formed in Jack’s head, and the vault hunter pushes himself away from Rhys and tells him to  _stay_ while he forages through his satchel in the seat of the truck’s cab.

There’s not enough lube in the crusty, curled up tube Jack has in the bottom of his pack to properly prep the kid’s ass, so he warms the last of it between Rhys’ thighs, with just enough left on his hand to ease the chafe of his palm against Rhys’ sensitive cock. Though doing so was prolonging the time he could finally fuck Rhys to some point in the future where he could scrounge up more lube, he would rather extend his own dry spell than hurt the kid by fucking him without enough proper preparation.

He lays Rhys down on his side in the bed of the truck, the dying embers of the fire heating their feet as Jack’s other hand holds the kid’s thighs together and creating a warm little crease for Jack to carefully slide his cock into. Rhys squirms a little, ass rutting back against Jack even as the vault hunter holds him firmly in place. He can barely believe the softness of Rhys’ thighs given the harsh world around them, the world Rhys had clawed his way through for years and years.

Jack starts to move, pulling his hips back, cock dragging between Rhys’ thighs before he slides back in, the dorsal skin of his dick rubbing up against the underside of Rhys’. His cock-head nudges up against Rhys’ own, making the kid gasp, hands clutching for one of the ratty blankets as his thighs squeeze around Jack’s cock. The vault hunter swears into the wispy hairs on Rhys’ neck, his pace picking up as he buries himself again and again into that gentle pressure. His hand moves to grasp clumsily around both of their cocks, struggling to keep a grip on them as he continues to move.

Rhys’ calves jerk instinctively with each thrust, nearly kicking Jack in the shins several times before the vault hunter ends up slinging one leg over his knees to hold the kid better in place. Rhys still shifts and twitches in his grasp, like he’s moving on the verge of sleep. Jack can feel the kid’s jittery arousal and distantly wonders if Rhys has ever done anything like this with someone else.

_Probably not_. He bites against Rhys’ neck.

“Shhhh, pumpkin, shhh, daddy’s got you,” Even Jack’s tipsy brain doesn’t miss the way Rhys’ thighs clench around  _daddy_ , the way his lips tremble in a small whimper as his hips rut back and forth, confused as to how much he wants and where he wants it. But that’s fine, because Jack’s here to guide him, here to forfeit his own cock to focus on Rhys,’ jerking the kid off against the sheets before he tends to himself and paints Rhys’ thighs sticky with his cum.

Rhys clings to him almost immediately afterwards, like he’s afraid Jack is going to up and vanish, with little regard to how slick and sticky the both of them are. Jack grumbles a little bit at the tacky cum on his cock, but when Rhys suddenly looks at him with an expression tinged with anxiety and longing, Jack shuts his mouth and simply holds the kid against him. He doesn’t even have the power in him to groan in frustration when Rhys quickly falls asleep with all his weight atop the vault hunter.

Curled up against Jack, with his cheek squished up against his chest, Rhys looks even younger. Jack strokes his hand through Rhys hair, letting the wavy brown locks spill between his fingers, moonlight traveling along each strand.

Jack rests his head back against the bed of the truck, looking up to the crystal clear Pandoran skies. Elpis hangs bright, Helios watches in misty blue, and the stars Rhys had named sparkle. Jack slowly lets his eyes flutter shut, feeling his mind drawn to the comfort of sleep.

Maybe in the morning, he’ll be able to blame it on the whiskey.

But the real question is, whether he’ll want to.


End file.
